Sparrow
by fancyyfox
Summary: I wanted to be a hero. I guess I didn't quite know what that would entail.
1. Chapter 1 - Take Flight

CHAPTER ONE – Take Flight

I had a dream when I was younger, a naive but commonplace dream. I remember watching that video, you know the one. Where All Might, the greatest hero of all time made his massive debut, saving countless people from a fiery death. It was awe-inspiring, and in the end, sparked the flame to become a hero.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one inspired. I had gone to school the next day as usual, except the great All Might was all anyone was interested in. My friends, all the students, hell, even the _teachers_. And that video didn't leave conversation for months, and even after the video hype died down, All Might had since become synonymous for _hero_.

I couldn't believe one man could achieve so much.

So yes, I was moved. He stirred my dream to become a hero. Well, me and every other kid under the sun. We all dreamed of being as great as the great All Might himself.

That aspiration didn't last long for me though. No, because as my quirk manifested it was replaced with a new dream.

 _To not be a goddamn bird._

I had always wondered what quirk I would get. My father, Haruto Koizumi, was a sidekick, taking down criminals by transforming his arms into steel blades. On the other hand, my mother, Natsuko Koizumi, owned a flower shop and could speak to birds. A curious combination of powers for sure.

At the tender age of four my maple coloured eyes grew sharper, my field of vision increasing more than I ever thought possible. Just like a bird of prey. _Cool_ , I had thought.

But the rest of it? Was decidedly _uncool_.

Around the same time, I began sprouting feathers from my arms. The feathers were a vibrant, magenta eye-sore and were painfully uncomfortable, like some sort of grotesque growing pain as fledging feathers sprouted from the underside of my forearm. My arms eventually turned into a very sad impression of wings, with short, dark pink tufts of feathers lining the underside of my arms. The vibrant colour certainly contrasted with my mousy brown hair. However, as well as these feathers, there was another side effect to my bird-like features.

The problem didn't manifest itself until a year later when I was playing with my friends. Being children with supernatural abilities, playing tended to get a little rough, because we could take it. Or at least, everyone else could.

But not me apparently.

My mother came to school to pick me up early. I was in the nurse's office with a throbbingly painful arm and a crying Riku Fujita, who thought she had destroyed my arm. She wasn't wrong, it _hurt_ goddamn it. It also was bending the wrong way.

My mother looked a little green as we talked to the doctor. I had just come out of surgery as the full extent of my quirk was explained to me.

"Your daughter's bones are hollow."

They were lightweight, delicate and _breakable_. I had to be the only person in the world with a quirk that hurt me more than it helped me. My quirk was...

"Useless."

My parents stared down, startled by their five-year-old daughter.

"I have a useless quirk, I can't be a hero," I cried, tears of hopelessness dripping down my beet-red, puffy eyes.

"I-I," I hiccupped in between sobs, before breathlessly explaining, "I wanted to be like tou-san."

I stared up at them as they quickly shared a distressed glance, and my father knelt, his own eyes glassy, "Asuka... don't cry."

For some reason that made me cry more.

"If you want to be a hero Little Sparrow, you can't cry, you wanna know why?"

I nodded, attempting to wipe the tears from my eyes, but only succeeding in wiping my snot all over my face.

He continued gently, "when a hero encounters an enemy, they don't cry. They fight," he put a large hand on my head, "they fight because they need to overcome the enemy. Here, your enemy is yourself. But you can overcome it, and you can learn the great things about yourself, instead of the things you hate. That is what a hero does, and you absolutely can be a hero Asuka."

Mother leaned down then as well, pressing a handkerchief to my swollen face, "and you have us to help you Asuka."

And suddenly their hopeless five-year-old had hope. But as the saying goes, things will get worse before they get better.

My sixth birthday passed, as did my seventh, eighth and ninth. With my father's help, I quickly realised my quirk was not as useless as I first thought. Of course, my bones were hollow and thus, fragile, but they were also lightweight and _quick_.

I was enrolled into Aikido classes, a martial art that focused on avoiding a muscular struggle, so I could focus on honing my speed and mechanical skills and avoiding a head on collision which would be sure to damage my delicate body. The first year of training was the roughest and conditioning my body was painful and difficult, but I worked hard to overcome my fragility. My father also taught me to work smart. We soon realised the feathers on my arms could be more than a pink monstrosity. I could use them to change my direction mid fight and after overcoming my clumsiness, I became the speediest student in the class.

Even though I was only ten at the time, I knew that my hopeless disposition had quickly changed into something more ambitious. Something greater than I ever thought I could achieve.

U.A. High School.

My father had taught me that I was not useless, that my quirk wasn't what I first thought it to be. That I could be great. He taught me that maybe I could even attend the greatest hero school of them all.

"How was your lesson today Little Sparrow?"

I looked up at my father, face cherry red from exercising, "it was good tou-san! Matsumoto-sensei is still teaching us nerve techniques and pressure points... Sensei called it Yonkyo."

He nodded along to my ramblings as we made the walk home. He still wore his spandex hero uniform as he often came straight from his work to walk me home. We stepped between the tall buildings of Hosu, the evening tinted with an Autumn orange as the bright sun set in the distance, casting long, dark shadows on the pavement. It was amongst the dark shadows that something even darker emerged. My bird-like eyes picked up on the figure first, a hunched and ragged looking man.

The world would know him as the hero killer.

Bandaged with chipped swords in his hands and torn, rotted clothing swaying behind him, this man approached us with wide eyes.

Father was quick to recognise the situation. He knew this man, Stain.

I, however, did not, but I could feel his lust for blood and power like I've never known. Power that rooted me in place, frozen by the fear that only the impending threat of death could bring.

My father stepped forward, towards the swordsman, placing himself in front of me, "Asuka, you need to run!"

But I couldn't. I couldn't even blink. My only movement was the intense shivering that wracked my body.

The whole experience didn't last very long, my sidekick hero dad was no match against Stain, and I watched as dad transformed his arms into steel, parrying the swords with his own, blade-like arms. But the hero killer pierced my father with his sword, causing a sickly _squelch_ to sound as the sword was driven into fresh meat. Stain pinned him to the pavement by his shoulder before roughly slitting his throat.

Blood sputtered around me, soaking my Aikido uniform with red. The sight was messy, but it was the metallic smell that made me gag, my stomach desperately churning to empty its contents. Stain seemed to watch my dad for a moment as he quivered, making futile, raspy gasps for air, before the villain turned his gaze to me. I fell to the gravelly concrete at his gaze and he stalked towards me with a grin so wide, it was all I could see in the darkening evening. That, as well as his eyes. Veiny. Wild. Red like the blood that spurted from my father's neck.

Stain swung his sword, and for the first time I finally moved, throwing my hands in front of my face. My arms rattled with a clang.

Opening my eyes, I jumped back in shock. Stain had pointed his sword towards me, not going for a killing blow. In the process however, his blade had grazed my feathers, my steel, blade-like feathers.

But I didn't have time to concern myself with the sudden change in my quirk.

Stain leaned towards me and my back hit a wall, "I'm not against killing children," his hot breath smelt rotten, "it depends on what you say next."

But I was beyond terrified, I was a _coward, coward, coward._

I didn't say anything.

Stain seemed amused as he vanished into the darkness and I remained there against the wall with a blood-soaked Aikido uniform and my father's cold, dead body beside me.

The death of my father was not something I would ever forget. That day I learnt the ugliest truth of heroism. I learnt the overwhelming guilt of not being good enough, a guilt that weighed down my heart like a tonne of lead. I was failure who let her own father die, who did nothing but watched as he was murdered. I couldn't be a hero like this. So, I decided to hang up my Aikido uniform.

How could someone like me even think about becoming a hero when I was such a coward? My mother was quick to stop me. Even through her grief and bitterness she had my best interests at heart. More importantly, she knew that dad would never have wanted me to give up my dream. He'd never want me to quit fighting. So, I reluctantly kept up my Aikido lessons, if only for my mother's sake. I did get a new uniform, one without the reddish-brown stains of blood, but I knew I would always feel the blood on my clothes. That feeling would never leave.

A few years passed, the Summers bleeding into Autumns and the Winters bleeding into Springs. I honed my technique, my speed and the newly discovered facet of my quirk. I could will the feathers that lined my arms to harden into a steel-like quality, the vanes of the feathers becoming knife-like whilst the thin quill became as sharp as a needle. My mother saw it as a gift my father had left behind, a reminder of him.

Finally, it was time to apply for high school. I had long-since abandoned thoughts of attending U.A. High, complacent about which school I went to. _I, of all people, didn't deserve to get into a school such as_ that. Nonetheless, it was one a few schools I sent an application to.

On the day of the entrance exam, I was sure my mother was more nervous than even me, flitting around the house like a canary. As soon as I finished my meal, I bid her good bye as she smothered me in a hug, wishing me good luck at least a dozen times.

I slowly made my way to U.A. High, soon reaching the gated structure. I couldn't help but gape at how huge the campus was, with buildings towering a couple stories high and courtyards that seemed endless. The backdrop of the school was matched with pea green grass and the baby blue skies of Spring. As I took in my surroundings, I followed the bricked pathway into U.A High.

I guess this is where my story truly begins; as a reluctant applicant for a prestigious school. As a girl who still had so much to learn about what it truly meant to be a _hero_.

 **Thanks for reading :0**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO – Don't Count Your Chickens

It wasn't long before they called us in, and we hopefuls all made our way into the lecture hall. A loud voice startled me into attention, going over the conditions of the exam. Although the room was mostly silent, there were excited whispers, amazed at getting to meet the hero Present Mic himself.

Of course, I knew of the mighty hero as well, but my excitement was dulled at the thought of the upcoming tests.

"We'll be placing a large number of 'villains' over the battlefield," the acclaimed hero spoke loudly, "there will be four types, with point values assigned according to difficulty."

I gulped, suddenly worried about these _villains_ and exactly how difficult they will be to take down.

Would my feathers even be useful here?

Suddenly, it was time to head out, and I was becoming more nervous by the second with the realisation that my ability was mostly useless in a head on fight. I vaguely wondered why I was so concerned, it wasn't like I even cared whether I got in, right?

Present Mic interrupted my thoughts, "well that's enough from me. I'll leave you all with a presentation of the 'school precepts' of this academy of mine," he began.

"As a great hero by the name of Napoleon Bonaparte once said, a true hero never stops overcoming the misfortunes in life."

I froze, still and silent as I was suddenly reminded of my father and what he once told me about overcoming the enemies of life, and his faith that I could overcome them to achieve my dreams.

My anxiety drained away but I suddenly felt like crying, _why does it feel like I haven't changed at all?_

As the students emptied out of the room I noticed I was the last one left seated and threw an embarrassed glance to the front of the room, only to see Present Mic grinning at me amusedly. I felt heat rise to my cheeks as I hurried to follow the rest of the students.

A large group of would-be heroes found themselves in front of a gate as I trailed behind. Before us stood what looked to be an urban setting, I assumed this was an attempt to replicate real life.

I vaguely wondered how they had the budget for something like this.

The rest of the students peered past as well, speaking amongst themselves. I shifted from foot to foot, eager to get this over with. Barely a minute had passed when the voice of Present Mic rung out once more, "aaaaand start!"

I blinked once, _has the test... started?_

I hesitated, slowly stepping forward towards the city-like training grounds, looking back to see everyone else glancing around in confusion.

"What's the matter? There's no such thing as a countdown in a real battle! Run," the hero continued playfully, "consider the baton tossed!"

With that, the crowd startled into action, nearly pushing me over in their haste. I was quick to follow, my light-footed steps guiding me to an empty side street, well, empty of people that is.

I gulped, suddenly face to face with a robot. _The villain_ , I reminded myself. The robot was a good couple of feet in front of me, but judging by the single, glowing eye staring me down, it had noticed me.

 _What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?_

Glancing frantically around me, it occurred to me that I could run back the way I came, but...

I knew, _I have to fight_.

Steeling myself, I stared down the robot, trying to figure a way to take the metal beast down. Maybe if I-

I flung myself to the left, eyes wide as I stared at the hulking, mechanical fist that lay right where I had been standing. It lifted its fist, leaving behind a crater in the concrete. I didn't have time to think as the robot threw another hefty arm in my direction. I dodged swiftly, left, right, back, right and I knew I was getting nowhere.

I spared a glance at the robot who watched me with its rust-red eye, following my every move. Then I realised.

I quickly jumped backwards, creating more distance between the villain and I, before I threw off my baggy sweater, ruffling the feathers that lined the underside of my forearms. I took a few more steps back to keep the distance, considering the metal giant before me. I stumbled slightly on a crater on the road, but concentrated on activating my quirk.

It was second nature to me as a feather hardened into a steel like quality, and I grimaced, pulling the feather free from my wrist. I held it between my fingers before rolling to the ground, dodging another metal fist thrown my way. I shot to my feet before taking a shaky breath, and I flung my sharp feather like a dagger.

 _Clang!_

I huffed as the feather missed its eye, instead lodging into its head. _Dammit, I knew I should have done more target practice._ I ripped another feather from my arm, frustrated. I kept some distance between myself and the robot before calming down, taking a breath so I could throw the feather carefully. I flicked my wrist and-

 _Clang!_

"Yes!" I couldn't help but celebrate with an excited grin, but the metal monstrosity retaliated blindly, once again swinging an arm in my direction.

I hopped out the way as the concrete crumbled, sending debris flying. I knew I'd need more than a feather to the eye to take this thing out. Fired up from my earlier success, I leapt onto the metal fist, scrambling up the arm.

I stumbled slightly as it moved to dislodge me, but I managed to pull myself up onto the shoulder, hanging on for dear life.

I gulped as I my gaze drifted downwards and my palms began to feel awfully slick with sweat, "it's rather high up here..."

The metal monster jerked and my heart lurched through my chest in a surge of panic, "why did I think this was a good idea!?"

Nevertheless, I powered through, this time hardening all the feathers on one arm, before digging them into the metal. They cut through like knives, giving me a friction point as I worked to dislodge a slab of metal that caged its neck.

"C'mon, get...off!"

The metal fell to the ground with a metallic crash, exposing the handfuls of wires that lay beneath, "finally," I muttered, panting.

I hardened the feathers on my other arm this time, not wasting a moment as I dug them into the wires, wildly swiping at the cables. The air filled with the sound of electric sizzles and smoke that, oddly enough, made me want to sneeze. Then, the exposed wires sparked and the robot faltered.

It stumbled before falling to the ground, taking me with it. I allowed my feathers to retain their normal softness, releasing my hold on the robot before making the most of my bird-like quirk. I did what birds do best, fly.

 _Ha. Yeah right._

I already knew I couldn't fly with my feathered arms, the plumage only lining my forearms, rather than resembling any wing of some sort. However, right at this moment, I sure did wish I could fly.

The heavy robot crashed into the road, sending a cloud of dust into the air. With my hollow bones and wing-like arms, I was able to slow my decent slightly, catching the wind and landing gracefully. Well, mostly.

"Ow, ow, ow!" I whined as my foot landed oddly onto the robot, twisting slightly.

After a few hops however, the pain lessened and I determined I was just being a cry baby. Staring behind me, I grinned as I realised, _I did it! I destroyed the villain_.

My elation was short lived however, when I realised I would need to destroy a lot more.

"Alright," I pondered, walking down the street, "if I was a robot, where would I be..."

I paused, hearing commotion to my left, and took off down an alleyway. After winding through the shadowed path, the tall buildings gave way to light. I squinted, seeing a couple of students running in the opposite direction.

Curious, I looked ahead, only to see another villain, except this one towered over the one I had fought, it was _huge_.

"Must be the villain Present Mic was talking about," I muttered to myself, stepping further into the street, "the one worth zero points."

I looked back, seeing the distant figures of students disappearing behind a building, running away from the mountainous hunk of metal, "looks like they've got the right idea."

There's no way I could take down something so enormous, even if it had been worth points. I went to follow suite, hoping I hadn't wasted too much time, only to hear a yell behind me.

"Sora! Leave! You can't fight!"

"You can leave, but I need to get points somehow!" A voice replied, Sora I assumed.

Suddenly, a girl ran into vision, halting as she noticed me. Her face was scrunched up in concern as she kept taking worried glances at the approaching robot. It was then I noticed someone else, a distant figure standing in front of the damn thing.

The girl had horns protruding from her head, her quirk I presumed, and I startled as she made her way to me, placing her hands on her knees and panting, "S-Sora, he needs... help! Please?"

She seemed to struggle with her Japanese, but she got her point across. Idiot boy thinks he can take on giant robot, save him from his stupidity. Gotcha.

I nodded slowly, the situation still catching up to me, and the girl smiled in relief before running away from the oncoming villain. I swallowed as I realised what I had just agreed to, glancing worriedly at the giant metal monster as it continued its approach, meanwhile the boy stood there waving an angry fist, "come at me! Imagine all the points you're worth, hahaha!"

I was tempted to throw a palm at my face, but settled to just yelling at him across the street, "hey idiot!" He turned, startled, "weren't you listening before!? Those robots aren't worth any points!"

"W-what!? Are you serious?" He exclaimed, turning away from the robot to face me.

That was a mistake.

My eyes widened as the robot neared the boy and a large foot looked in line to squish him. I darted into action, "m-move!" I screamed frantically.

I was already sprinting towards him, but I knew I wouldn't get there in time. Thankfully however, he heeded my warning, noticing the arm and diving to the ground. The robot's hulking, metal fist missed, but another one was fast approaching, "get out of the way!"

He didn't get up. He just watched on in horror.

I jumped over the arm lodged in the concrete, finally reaching the boy. The other arm was quickly descending upon both of us now as I gripped the boy under his arms and dragged. Even with all my conditioning and strength training Aikido, I wasn't the strongest person at my five-foot-four stature. However, I managed to yank the both of us out of the way, falling onto my backside as a fist crashed down in front of us, spraying debris and dust around us. We were silent for a moment as I tried to catch my breath.

"You... You're an idiot," I panted, glaring.

To his credit, the boy looked sheepish as he grinned, "I guess... Thanks for saving me."

I huffed, but it wasn't over yet. The robot towered above us, shifting to reach us. I swallowed, standing and ripping the boy up with me by his arm.

"We've gotta get out of here," I stated, not giving him a chance to respond as I pulled him away from a metal arm aimed at us.

I took off into a sprint, dragging him behind me. Just as we neared the street corner, a voice echoed around the training grounds. Present Mic announced the end of the exam. I rested my hands on my knees and sighed in relief. _Thank god that's over..._

Looking over my shoulder, the boy looked devastated, "hey... you good?" I asked awkwardly.

He clenched his fists, his expression scrunched and bitter, "I… didn't get any points in the end."

I froze, realising that apart from that one villain, I didn't get any either. It upset me more than I thought it would. It's not like I cared whether I got into this stupid school.

Besides, saving someone... I felt good for it. _Helping someone, so this is what feels like to be a hero._

"I-it's ok," I attempted to comfort him, "I didn't really get any either."

With that, we made our way back.


	3. Chapter 3 - Winging it

CHAPTER 3 – Winging it

When it came to being a hero, my feelings on the matter were a rollercoaster. I started off as a child with a dream, only to face the reality. _Its hopeless,_ a voice whispered, _you can't save anyone. After all, you couldn't even save your own father_. Then, saving Sora made me think back to the day I decided to be a hero, the day I watched that video. _That's right,_ I recalled, _I wanted to save people. Just like All-Might._ However, one thing was for certain, this whole mess would be a lot easier if you were still here, dad.

I spent the next few days moping.

My mom hadn't said a word about the exam, noticing my withdrawn disposition the day I got home from U.A. I guess she assumed the worst. So had I.

I couldn't help but feel like I had let everyone down. My mom, who wanted me to succeed in my chosen path. Myself, by acting complacent about becoming a hero because I couldn't admit I was scared and guilt-ridden. Most of all, I felt like I had let down the person who inspired me down this path to be a hero, _my father_.

 _Why didn't I try harder? Why?_

"Morning, honey."

"Morning," I mumbled, shuffling to the dining room with a blanket still wrapped around myself, casting a dark shadow over my face.

Mom smiled gently, "I've made some grilled mackerel for breakfast."

I perked up slightly, eager to dig into some food.

"Chew your food properly, Asuka," my mother glanced at me playfully, "you look like a chipmunk."

Her expression quickly turned to disgust, "err oo wha ah wan," I stated, revealing the contents of my mouth.

My mother shook her head, picking up the empty dishes and leaving me to eat my meal. I had barely finished eating when she rushed back into the room, hastily shoving something in front of me on the table. My wide, confused eyes whipped downwards. It was a letter, addressed to me, from...

U.A. High.

I wanted the floor to swallow me up then and there. The excited, hopeful look in my mother's eyes made me feel even worse. _What will she say when she realises I failed?_

I grasped the letter, turning, my back hunched as I trekked to my bedroom, feeling like the short walk was a death march.

I took a moment to just stare woefully at the cursed letter, before opening the contents. I heaved a sigh, savouring my last few moments without the burden of knowing I was a failure-

"Congraaaadulations!" The silvery disk projected an image of Present Mic, "based on your performance in the entrance exams, the judges have looked upon your villain smashing abilities, as well as your rescue points and have deemed that you..."

"Pass!"

 _Pass...?_

"I passed!?"

"You passed?"

I looked incredulously at my mom as she smashed my door open, having eavesdropped outside my room.

"I guess... I passed?" The words sounded foreign to me and not quite real, "I don't know, just... let me watch it again."

It turned out that no matter how many listens, the words never changed. I couldn't believe it.

I searched for some reason as to _how_ I could have passed when I only took down one villain. Present Mic had said something about rescue points.

"Asuka! Why did you seem so down after the exam!? You made it seem like you did poorly," my mother questioned.

I paused for a moment, "I thought I _had_ done poorly. But I guess I got... rescue points from saving another student."

My mom nodded along and I spent the rest of night basking in the elation that I made it into the school of my dreams.

 _I'll be a hero, dad. I won't let you down._

It wasn't long before Spring rolled around. Spring was always an important time for my family, where my mother's flower shop thrived the most. Birds flitted and chirped, my mother able to chirp back with her quirk. Strangely enough, I was never able to communicate with birds like her, despite my avian quirk.

This Springtime was important for entirely different reasons however, all because of one thing.

It was my first day of high school.

I made my way to the campus, walking slowly to postpone the inevitable first day. I had left early, feeling jittery with nerves, my mouth dry as I walked. Still, no matter how slowly I had walked, I soon reached the door of my classroom. 1-A.

I slowly cracked the door open, pleased to see the classroom was barely half full. I was on time at least.

I chose a chair somewhere towards the back of the classroom, walking passed the other sleepy looking students. Once seated, there was only one thing left to do. _Wait._

As students entered the classroom one by one, the room started to fill with quiet chatter. The atmosphere was relaxed, that was, until _he_ walked in.

Bakugo Katsuki.

He strolled in, hands in pockets, angry eyes searching the room. He chose a seat, tossing his bag to the floor and throwing his feet up onto the desk.

"Hey! I was sitting there," a voice protested.

Bakugo's voice had a growly tone to it as he replied indifferently, "ah? Well I don't see your fucking name on it. Now beat it, loser."

"Loser? The name's Sero Hanta," the raven-haired boy ever present grin not leaving his face as he jabbed a thumb at himself in introduction, "and I wanted to sit here. Everyone else can vouch that I was here before."

To my surprise, Sero was looking expectantly at me, "erm," I grew uncomfortable and Bakugo's dangerous, red eyes moved to me, "I guess Sero was there first. But don't you think we're getting too old to fight over things like this?"

The dangerous look left Bakugo's gaze as he leaned back with closed eyes, "see? Now go find a new chair, asshat," he dismissed.

I shot Bakugo a nasty look, "that's not what I meant," The fiery look that entered the blond's eyes didn't deter me, "quit being rude," I finished with a huff.

Some part of me wept at causing trouble on the _first day_ , but something about Bakugo Katsuki rubbed me the wrong the way.

Bakugo's heated, copper eyes turned on me, and strangely he reminded me of a growly dog. However, just as he opened his mouth to snap at me angrily, another voice interrupted, "don't put your legs on the desk! Don't you think that's disrespectful to your classmates?"

The boy who spoke seemed to be Bakugo's opposite, with dark, neat hair and a straight-edge posture compared to Bakugo's messy, laidback disposition.

When Bakugo turned his wild eyes away from me I breathed a sigh of relief, silently begging class to begin before any more trouble decided to involve me. I silently noted Bakugo's own knack for involving trouble as he once again fuelled another fiery argument with Tenya Iida.

Finally, the classroom chatter halted. Our teacher had entered the class with bloodshot, veiny eyes and long, dark hair dragging across... the floor?

I blinked, _is this guy really our teacher?_ I pondered, staring disbelievingly at the older man lying on the floor, wrapped cosily in a canary yellow sleeping bag

The man hummed, lethargically stepping out of his sleeping bag, "it took you all eight seconds to quiet down," he began disinterestedly, "life is short kids, you're lacking in common sense."

 _Tired_. That was the word that came to mind when I looked at this guy. _Geez, just looking at him makes me want a coffee._

"I'm your home room teacher, Shouta Aizawa. Now change into these," he gestured to a tight, sports uniform, "we're going to the P.E. grounds."

With that, our home room teacher dragged himself out of the room, leaving the class to catch up with his sudden introduction.

The latex clung to my skin. I had donned the P.E. gear, after encountering much struggle slipping my feathers through the sleeves. The uniform was designed to be mobile and flexible, perfect for athletics, but wearing the skin-tight cloth made me feel claustrophobic. I was used to comfy, loose-fitting clothing.

I was scowling when I reached the training grounds, and my mood didn't improve much when I heard the words _quirk apprehension test_.

"Imagine going through an entrance exam, spending half the day testing your quirks limits fighting robots only to be tested _again_ on the first day of school," I grumbled quietly, "fantastic."

I startled as the girl hunched beside me acknowledged my grumblings with a frog-like ribbit. Then, my stomach dropped like a solid ice block inside my belly as Aizawa sensei announced the test's rules.

"The student who ranks last in total points will be judged hopeless," I felt our homeroom teacher's gaze like a blank, midnight sky, "and instantly expelled."

Unease bubbled inside me, the familiar fear of failure.

The grounds sounded with calls of protest, but we passed the exam, but we had made it. But the cruel truth was that we _hadn't_.

I should have known. I knew how cutthroat this world of heroes was, that heroes cut each other down just as much as they cut down villains. This was, and always will be, a competition to succeed.

That was when he made his way to the podium. Bakugo, I noted, was brimming with explosive confidence, not only rising to the challenge, but embracing it. He threw the ball and I realised explosive was certainly the ideal adjective. _His quirk..._

"DIE," he roared as a gust of hot air blew passed us, strands of hair threatening to leave the messy bun that held my hair. The ball, powered by an explosion, became a speck in the air. Emotionless, our sensei held up the score. 705 metres. My stomach sank even further, my quirk... Throwing a ball? That won't amount to anything special, let alone pass this apprehension test.

After that display, Aizawa-sensei cast his gaze on the students who were filled with both determination and fear alike, "let's begin."

Fifty metres had never looked so long. I gulped, risking a glance at my red-haired opponent, Kirishima Eijiro. He seemed confident, but he didn't radiate it like Bakugo did. Right then, I wished I could have that kind of confidence. I shook my head and cast my worries aside, taking a deep breath. I was light and agile, my feathers made me slightly more aerodynamic than the average person, _that has to count for something, right?_

I decided I didn't want to leave this school, especially on the first day.

Then, we were off. I pushed off the grass with my foot, summoning all the power I could. I felt light as I pumped my legs, my feet barely touching the ground. I reached the finish line, panting lightly. 5.46 seconds. A couple seconds later, Kirishima followed suite.

"Yes!" I celebrated, grinning to myself.

It certainly wasn't the best score, but... I surprised myself, "I actually… didn't do too badly," I panted.

"Hey, Koizumi," Kirishima wandered up to me, "you won this one, but don't rub it in my face, will ya?" He panted good-naturedly.

Sheepish, I smiled, "sorry, I'm just really hoping I don't get the lowest score."

Sweeping over me, Kirishima's gaze landed thoughtfully on my arms, "you're a bird girl, right?"

I hummed, amused, "that's one way of putting it."

"You'll be fine," he grinned.

"Thanks. What's your quirk?"

He gestured to his arm, which was now malformed and jagged, with sharp corners that indicated his arm's rigidity, "hardening."

Before I could reply, Aizawa-sensei moved us to the next tests. As each test progressed, I became increasingly worried about my place on the scoreboard. It seemed my earlier success in sprinting was not an indication of my ability to perform in the next assessments.

Endurance running: _below average._

Grip-strength test: _below average._

Upper body exercises: _below average._

There was some hope to be had in the seated toe touch, with my gender affording me some flexibility. The sideways jumps also went decently.

I felt the weight of the next test, chiefly because there was a chance I could perform _above_ average.

Long jump.

"Why do you look so nervous? Birds are made for flying, aren't they?" The red head next to me grinned cheekily.

I sent a cutting glare, regretting this sudden acquaintanceship with Kirishima, "birds might be made for flying, but I'm definitely not."

Finally, it was my turn to step up. Taking a running start, I relished the light feeling as I pushed off, jumping above the sand. My feathers managed to catch the wind as I soared slightly, before plummeting into the dirt.

"Hey, bird brain," a gravelly voice sounded as I spat out a face full of dirt, "you might wanna work on your landing."

My startled expression didn't take long to turn into a glare as Bakugo smirked down at me.

I huffed, shaking the sand off my uniform, "well, no one asked you," was the best I could manage because I certainly didn't want to admit that he had a point.

Even if my landing was subpar, I couldn't help but feel pleased when I managed to reach top three in the long jump at least. However, that excitement wore away after pitching the softball. I stared dejectedly as the ball bounced a couple feet in front me, looking as pathetic as I felt.

Below, _below_ average.

I would just have to wait and see whether I was simply below average, or the worst scorer in the class.

The tests were coming to a close and the final student to pitch the softball was called up, Izuku Midoriya. He looked about as nervous as I felt, wide-eyed and sticky with sweat. But he marched up to the white lines marking the grass brimming with determination. Then, he threw the ball.

 _46 metres_.

A little further than mine, but I was truly no benchmark in this contest. Midoriya looked shaken by the throw, frozen in position. The air was thick with tension and I couldn't help but feel like I was missing something.

Then I noticed Aizawa-sensei's hair floating languidly above his head and the scratchy bandages that once served as his scarf defied gravity, coils hovering above the ground in a sinister show of power, "I erased your quirk," he spoke coldly.

"H-he can do that?" I inhaled.

 _Just who is our home room teacher, exactly?_

Next to me Kirishima gaped, "wait, don't tell me he's that hero, Eraserhead."

I didn't get to ask him to elaborate, "it defies reason," Aizawa-sensei's deep voice seemed to echo on the field, "how did someone like you manage to enter this academy?"

The class broke out into tension filled whispers, "from what I've observed, you can't rein in your quirk's full power. Meaning you can't use it efficiently at all," Aizawa derided, "did you believe someone would come save you after you crippled yourself again?"

Puzzled, I turned to Kirishima, my eyes not leaving Aizawa, "Do you know what he's talking about?"

He shook his head slowly, absorbed in the confrontation as the tendrils of Aizawa-sensei's bandages snaked around an apprehensive Midoriya. Aizawa grimly explained the consequences of his recklessness. After all, who would save the hero when the hero needed saving?

"Face it," the teacher finished, "your power won't help you become a hero, Izuku Midoriya."

My heart tore at those words, remembering my similar tale. _I don't think... a quirk can be useless, not if you work hard enough, think smart enough._ Perhaps the words my father taught me would also help Midoriya, but I didn't dare speak up.

"I gave your quirk back, try the ball pitch a second time. Let's get this over with," Aizawa dismissed, stepping back with hands in pockets.

The rest of the students whispered amongst themselves as we watched Midoriya steel himself. He gripped the ball and pitched it...

 _705 metres._

I grinned, "he did it."

And then my eyes zeroed in on his finger and I realised what the issue was, "it seems like his quirk... hurts him."

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, "how can you tell?"

I pointed, "his finger... it's... black and bruised, like the bones are completely shattered."

The red head squinted, "you can see that far away? I can't tell."

"Bird vision," I shrugged, gesturing to my eyes.

The class seemed impressed by Midoriya's toss at least. Well, except one person.

"What is this Deku!? Explain now, shitrag!" A growly and very angry voice disturbed the chatter and Bakugo seemed out for blood as he made to tear into Midoriya.

I sighed, exasperated, and maybe a little worried. _How much trouble can one kid cause in a day?_ Nevertheless, he was stopped in his tracks when Aizawa erased his quirk, bloodshot eyes straining to stay open and bandages binding the angry fifteen year old.

"Don't make me use my quirk so much," the teacher stated, irritated, "I've got dry eye, damnit!"

The tension diffused, Midoriya's friends running over to check on him. I sighed again, drawing a hand through my hair, uncaring if I dislodged a few strands from my bun. As I went to follow the class to the scoreboard, my eyes drew to Bakugo. I gulped as I saw his gaze, a dangerous, untamed fire clearly not quieted by Aizawa's intervention.

I hesitated, taking a few steps in his direction until I was right behind him, "why the hell are you so angry, anyway?"

Bakugo whipped around, growling, "you wouldn't understand. Leave me the fuck alone."

Strangely, his cutting words were easy to shrug off and he stalked off, leaving me to wonder, _what the hell were you thinking? Don't approach the crazy troublemaker, you idiot!_

But hey, at least he didn't blow me up?


End file.
